Heart in Hand
by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa
Summary: He could see Ciel Phantomhive's soul, could see the raw essence of beauty in the white mass that cracked with red. It was like watching a mirror slowly splinter, waiting for the glass to shatter at the briefest kiss. Seba/Ciel


Heart in Hand

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Author Notes: This short is long over-do. I've had it sitting on my computer for months...

Warning: A bit of soul-corruption. The M rating is less for the story, and more to cover myself; just in case. Note that there are time differences between each piece- roughly 3 months, except for the last two, which are pretty consecutive. Alas, that's how I see it. I think it would take much, much longer than a night for Sebastian to fully corrupt Ciel.

* * *

_"Will it hurt?"

* * *

_

He's a delicate thing, really. A fleshy body with the sweet smell of tea in the parlor room as the sun sets like a shadow, yes, but there isn't very much to him at all. His bones are brittle, his lungs too small, and his hands are the size of a child's. Sometimes, when the nightmares are too much for his mind to take, he walks around the Phantomhive estate in nothing but his night-things, a pale wraith in the moonlight.

Sometimes, Sebastian wonders if the meal will be worth it, in the end. Could a body truly hold the type of soul that would more than slake his hunger? He could see Ciel Phantomhive's soul, could see the raw essence of beauty in the white mass that cracked with red. It was like watching a mirror slowly splinter, waiting for the glass to shatter at the briefest kiss.

There was no black in his soul, not yet.

* * *

_"Yes, a little."_

* * *

The first time he noticed the taint, Sebastian could not quite comprehend what could have caused it. The morning was average—a lightly buttered croissant, an Oriental tea to compliment the fruit dish, and a crack spreading out through his Master's soul the moment he looked down after pulling open the curtains. It hadn't been there the night before, he was sure—he had stayed with the boy until he had fallen asleep, and nothing in the ordinary (for Sebastian grew used to bizarre things happening, that the sheer fact there was nothing confounded him) could have possibly occurred between the hours of dreaming.

"Young master," he said, licking his lips, "was your sleep restful?"

He was flustered, Sebastian noticed, and there were beads of sweat dotting his cheeks and forehead. His breath was far too fast for a child who was awoken only a moment prior, and the smell-

"No, it was not," the boy snapped and pulled his blankets up to his chin, glaring impetuously at his butler.

Sebastian only smiled. "Please enjoy your breakfast, my lord. I will go finish the water for your bath." Of course, he would not mention that the water was of perfect temperature as it was, because listening to the sounds from behind the door were worth lying for. His master never need know...

And the the crack began to splinter.

* * *

_"I will make it as gentle as I can, though."

* * *

_

Ciel's lungs were small, and yet they caused surprise when Sebastian first heard him moan. It was a guttural thing, deep from the boy's belly, and yet it was very much his Master's voice—though, for a brief moment Sebastian contemplated what could possibly come over the young boy.

He listened through the wooden door as the boy's nimble fingers tugged at his night things—this was the first time his Master touched himself—not the first time he was touched, but...

_He has the knowledge of only pain as an accompanist to these actions; the feeling of unwillingness, of broken bodies on sanctimonious alters and blood. _

Ciel knew well what sex was, understood the mechanisms and had, in a way, felt the invasion of the actions. But, pleasure was a foreign concept in those rooms while chained and tethered between life and death.

Truly, Sebastian should have left the boy to his own devices, allowed the boy to ravage his own soul to Sebastian's taste...

But there was something in the demon's mind that called for his Master from his Master, and who was he to deny such a feeling?

"Sehh-" the boy groaned under his own ministrations, unknowingly calling for his personal beast.

_

* * *

"No, make it hurt."_

* * *

"Sebastian," Ciel whispered as if a prayer, and who could dare not answer such a cursed plea?

Sebastian leaned down, touching his nose against Ciel's sweaty brow, nuzzling himself deeper into the boy, until he could feel the pain racing through his master as if it were his own. He did not rock his hips up to gyrate into him; this would be slow, so agonizingly slow. He would rip the wings off the boy tonight, at this moment.

Exiled from the bosom of God, entrapped in the fiery pits of Hell, everlasting.

"Shh, now," Sebastian whispered as he began to move. "This is what you desire, this is what you yearn for?"

Ciel cried; the demon knew it well.

It was the cry of a child losing faith, truly, for the first time.

Nothing would touch Ciel Phantomhive.

And the blackness began to encroach as Sebastian felt Ciel tremble, and finally, give in.

_

* * *

"Carve the pain of my life into my soul."_

* * *

"Kill him, kill him _now._"

To watch a man lose all faith in Him was beautiful, and to see the monster they would become, without the innocence tethered to naivety, was remarkable. The transition was long, so long that Sebastian feared the corruption would never truly plant itself... but now. Now it was as if he were watching a master-piece of ugliness painted right before his very eyes, and an unmistakable lust crashed over Sebastian's groin in a wave of pleasure.

Watching beautiful things wither in his palm was always the most beautiful of sights.

"My Lord," Sebastian whispered, "this is not quite like before." Before, Ciel had reason, and in the eyes of an abominable God, his release from his bloody alter did not tarnish his soul. Since, Ciel had been never so specific as to how his enemy were to be treated, thus leaving his pure soul untarnished.

But the foolish God could no longer shield the soul of the pretty little boy, with cold, cold eyes.

The boy's right eye flared with contract, and his lower lip quivered. "Do you want me to kill him with my own hands?"

In fact, Sebastian believed it to be a wonderful idea, and he could barely contain a chuckle as a set of mismatched eyes stared through him.

"Do it then, my Lord. I'm sure it will slake your thirst for blood, will it not?"

Ciel did not feel it, but Sebastian did—as the man's neck broke under supple, boyish fingers, something positively _divine _crawled from the pits of Hell into the boy's soul.

_So delicious.

* * *

_

_"Yes, my lord."_

* * *

Ciel's bloody heart in his palm looked black in the moonlight.

* * *

**Please Review.**


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